“Hey Frank, we got three more alive here. Found them buried beneath some stalls in the men’s room.”

Frank abandoned the smoldering and charred corpse on the gurney and moved quickly toward the cop.

“Anyone hurt?”

“No, they just ahhh…well, they smell like ****.” The cop snickered as he looked at the three men, wet and stained with whatever gunk had came flying out of the exploding sewer in the bathroom.

Another cop walked up. “Aww, ****! Well they aint getting near my car. I just had it detailed.”

“Don’t look at me.” Another officer replied as she moved away rapidly.   

Frank frowned. He was not enjoying the evening as much as the cops seemed to be.

Dozens of bodies needed attending too. Most of them dead.

He hated this **** city. What possible purpose could someone have for blowing up a night club? Terrorism? For money? Had to be something important. 

He addressed the three men looking dazed and pathetic, covered in feces, urine and assorted chunks of whatever someone had for dinner before they heaved it back up to the porcelain gods. 

 “Okay, gentlemen, please just stand over there until we can get you something to clean up with okay?”

Toby nodded.

His head felt damaged. Like he wasn’t even himself anymore. Killing. Sadness. Death. Explosions. He wasn’t really even sure he knew what had happened. Maybe Egg had killed him? Maybe Che had killed them both?

He glanced around him at the two other men and shook his head. No, they were both right here with him. 

Egg was disoriented too, but well aware of how lucky they had been. Well, at least how lucky he had been. It was only a matter of time before an opportunity to shank the other two **** would present itself. He hoped it would be a long and painful death for them both. By the time he was through with them, they would wish they had died in the explosion.

And at the end of the day, Egg would retire to some beach someplace far, far away. He was tired of running. Tired of the **** games. He just wanted to smoke a fat joint and and curl his toes in the sand while some cabana boy paraded around him in a Speedo.  

   An unmarked police car pulled up and an extremely tall cop stepped out. He walked around the vehicle to where the three men stood. He planted his feet in front of them and just stared.

Egg finally broke the silence: “Well fuzzy…you gonna get us something to clean up with or you want us stinkin’ up that pretty ol ride of yours?”

The cop pulled off his sunglasses and smiled. He spoke to them with an Australian accent. “One of you blokes happen to be named Che.”

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Egg jerked his thumb in Ches direction.

Recognizing he had no place to run and no way to hide Che spoke:

“I’m Che. Wass it to jew man.”

A gun seemed to appear out of thin air in the cops hand. He rested the tip right on Ches chest and without hesitation, he fired.

With the silencer, all they heard was some glass pop as the bullet ripped through Che’s chest and continued out his back. The momentum carried it through the car window and off into the distance. Che looked down in surprise at the tiny hole in his shirt. Then he sank to the ground in a heap.

The cop turned his attention to Egg and Toby, both standing helpless and in shock.

“Well gents, looks like you’re with me then.”

He waved his weapon toward the back seat.

Egg began to protest but was quickly silenced by the cop’s raised eyebrow and smoking weapon. The two men climbed into the car.

As they drove away the cop observed them sternly in the rear view mirror.

Toby finally broke the silence, “Okay, so you’re not a cop. What do you want with us?” 

The man smiled and his teeth cast a blinding glare into the mirror.

“We all have a common interest lads.”

“Is that right?” Egg offered in his southerly gentleman style. “Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us as to what that common interest might be.”

The man laughed heartily.

“Who the hell you are!” Toby demanded authoritatively. Even Egg jumped in his seat.       

The man stopped laughing.

“Names Lucas. I’m from the land down under.”

He stopped the car at a red light and turned in his seat to face them. He alternated his serious gaze from one to the other before speaking again.  

“And I’m here to kill my wife and her lover. I believe you know them. Shirley and Wright.”

Egg and Toby exchanged a quick glance.   

A horn blasted from the car behind them. For a moment a fierce fire blazed hot in Lucas’s eyes. Then that wide, radiant smile flashed across his face once more and he raised his hand to wave before turning around again to drive.  

As they pulled away through the intersection, Lucas turned on the radio and tuned it in to a Salsa station.

Egg’s face soured. It reminded him of Che.

He had wanted to kill that **** himself.   

As if reading his mind, Lucas proclaimed into the rear view: “You’ll get your turn mate.”

Then directed to Toby:

“Trust me, you both will. There’s plenty more killing to be done.”